


Two Sides of A Coin

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6967549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davos and Melisandre find an understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Sides of A Coin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [streepytime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/streepytime/gifts).



Davos had had women before, of course.

The mother of his son, of course, whom he'd married as a ruddy lass of sixteen, a decent lass.  Before and after her, brothel girls, whose affections were paid for with smuggler's gold and whose smiles were sometimes genuine because he was kinder than most pirates.  Sex was a part of life, after all, and their services no less valuable than a seamstress or a cook's. 

The witch had been desolate after Stannis's death.  Davos blamed her, but also saw how abandoned she felt, that her god had suddenly left her stranded in the middle of an ocean with no compass and a brutish wind that threatened to capsize her.  He knew that feeling.  He had been in that place.  He was there now.

"You're not alone," he said to her, as she gazed out into the snow and ice.  The cold seemed to penetrate her entire being.  "I'm without my king now, too, you know.  I'm the hand of nothing."  He held up his gloved hand, with the stumps of fingers where Stannis had cut the tips off.  "Then again, I was always half a hand anyhow, I suppose," he joked wryly.

She had mustered something close to a faint smile. 

When he'd awakened that night to find her pale, smooth shape sliding into his bed, he couldn't keep his hands from her skin, but he still asked, "Is this another spell?  Am I to give you another shadow child?"

She hushed him with a finger to his lips.  "I am cold, Ser Davos," she whispered, and said nothing more.

She was a fire priestess, but the mystical experience he half-expected didn't happen.  No visions of flaming gods, no moment of the bed spontaneously bursting into flame.  Just her smooth, pale skin, rubbing against his, some half-muffled moans, the peculiar mix of her perfume and an under-note of something charred, and her soft, wet flesh rising up and down on his cock.  He'd had women before, of course.  It wasn't magic.  It was fucking, and sad to say, it was welcome just now, a hit of fleeting pleasure to fill the hole left in him by grief, by his purpose being torn from him.  He didn't trust her, but the hot rush of orgasm was enough to blot out the grief and emptiness.

"I've been lost before, you know," he said after they'd finished.  With his good hand, he explored her shape, down her ribs, down the curve of her hip, back up her stomach again.  She lay now with her back to him, sighing into the darkness.

"Have you," she responded disinterestedly.

"Lost at sea.  No compass.  No maps.  It was a bit of misfortune," he went on.

"And what did you do, Ser Davos?"

His hand drifted up to her breast.  "I chose a star.  I followed it."

She seemed to consider this for a moment.  "How did you know it was the right one?"

"I didn't," he replied with a chuckle.  "But I had no choice."

"A leap of faith," she noted with amusement.

Her breast was firm in his hand.  A thumb across the nipple made it stand up.  He did this a few more times, until she was arching into his touch.  "I suppose it was," he acknowledged.

She pulled his hand down between her legs, and rubbed herself against it.  He felt his cock grow stiff again, pressing against the swell of her ass.  "Take me again, Ser Davos.  Please."

 

***

 

She was distant the next day, and Davos ruefully thought to himself that it wouldn't be the first time a girl didn't want to know him after they'd fucked.  He found her in the libraries of Castle Black, poring over the texts full of the legends of the prince who was promised.

"It would appear that I followed the wrong star, Ser Davos."

"Perhaps you did, and perhaps you didn't."  He had loved Stannis, too, maybe more than she had. 

She closed the book and looked up at him. "I am tasting doubt for the first time in centuries, Ser Davos, and it is bitter.  How do you live with this taste in your mouth, day in and day out?" 

He shrugged.  "The alternative is faith, and I have none," he replied frankly.

"I suspect you have more than you think."

He approached her, and laid a gloved hand over hers.  "I'm a man who believes in what he can see.  And I've seen you do incredible things."

She shook her head.  "Not this, Ser Davos.  My god has abandoned me."

"The boy needs you."  He thumbed over his shoulder in the direction of the building where Jon Snow's body still lay in repose, cold and still.  "And maybe your god, too, I don't know.  But he needs what you can do.  What I _know_ you can do.  What I've _seen_ you do."  He paused, seeing the mild amusement playing over her lips.  He knew what she was thinking, that he was showing more faith in her than she currently had in herself.  "It's not faith, my lady, if there's evidence.  It's just a well-founded opinion."

 

*********

 

He had been right, of course.  The boy had needed her, and when she worked her magic, he drew breath again.  That was all it had taken for her faith to return, at least some of it.  Enough for her to still call herself a priestess of the Lord of Lights.

She found her way into his bed again that night.

"Cold again, my lady?" he chuckled gently as she slipped from her robes in the chilly air and climbed in between the covers. 

She began calmly pulling at the hem of his sleeping shift, tugging it up over around his waist to give herself access to him.  "No, not this time."

"What is it then?" he asked with amusement.

"Every time I have bedded in a man in the last three hundred years," she explained quietly, taking him in hand, "it has been in service of the Lord, in service to my faith."

"And this?"

"This is for me," she whispered against his chest.  "This is in service to my doubt.  I chose a star and followed it."   Her eyes glittered in the darkness, in the cold, brittle night.  He felt himself stiffening in her hand.

He gently took her hand off of him, eased her onto her back, and rolled on top of her.  "Then I imagine it's been a few hundred years since anyone's done this," he rumbled, and he moved swiftly down her body.  He settled between her legs, and began to kiss the soft, pink flesh that was already wet with arousal.  He dredged his tongue up the length of her sex, settling at her clit and listening for a few long, pleasant moments to the gasping sounds she made.

"Ser Davos," she whispered, quiet but frantic.  "Ser Davos, you speak for the Lord though you do not realize it."

"If you say so," he answered, and continued to lick her softly. Her fingers raked over his scalp, through his beard, settled at the back of his head, as she thrust herself against his mouth. 

"This gift you give me is a small miracle," she whispered, clutching at him. 

He felt the tension building in her body as he took his time, carefully kissing and nibbling at her tender flesh.  This seemed to do something much more for her than their urgent, lonely coitus the other night.  She was dissolving under his mouth. 

"I am a servant of the Lord," she went on, "but in this moment, I am yours."  Her breath was shaking in her chest.  She clutched at him.

The taste of her was strong and his mind went blank.  He was dizzy on the smell of her perfume mingling with her cunt, the taste of her in his mouth, and the stream of desperate, hungry whispering that grew more and more urgent as he worked.  He broke a sweat, feeling his trembling match her own, feeling his cock standing up stiff at the way she was responding to him.

"Take me again, Ser Davos," she sighed, louder now.  "Please."

He sucked at her clit hungrily, and she came with a shudder and a low cry.  She hadn't done that before.  He moved up the bed and, after hesitating for a moment, pushed his throbbing cock into her soft, wet, waiting cunt.  She let out a deep sigh.  He slid slowly in and out, enjoying what he could see of her face, her mouth slack with pleasure.  Her breath was still thick as she moved underneath him, rolling her hips to meet his long, slow strokes.

"Do you trust me now, Ser Davos?" she asked him, still panting a little.

"I still have doubts," he answered, moving inside her.  It wasn't magical, there were no visions of fiery gods and the bed wasn't bursting into flames, but she felt good.  It was a part of life. 

Her legs wrapped around his waist and she opened herself more fully to his thrusting.  "And I still have faith," she whispered back.  "You, of all people, brought it back."  She gripped his shoulders.  "Now stop talking."

And he did.  Quietly, he fucked her.  With all the force his battle-scarred body could muster, deeply, earnestly, honestly.  He fucked her with no regard for how sore either of them would be later.  He fucked her with all of himself, fears, doubts, lusts, needs, weaknesses, everything.  He knew she could feel it all.  That she could take it all.  He fucked her until he finished inside her, felt her finish again too, a moment later, felt her insides clutching at his cock, heard her whispering things into his ears.  Maybe they were magical things.  He couldn't tell and couldn't remember later what they were.  This wouldn't be the last time they did this.  They needed each other, in a way he could never have imagined when he laid his wary eyes on her all those years ago.

Faith, and doubt.  Two sides of coin, turning over and over.


End file.
